The unraveling of Olivia’s youth had begun in the fall of 1940. The war in Europe was raging, and the Pacific was sowing the seeds of another great explosion. As world events burrowed their roots deeper into her innocence, she desperately tried to replenish the soil, believing she could still sow the seeds of new dreams and hopes. But the earth had continued to shift and erode until finally she had stumbled, and her rose-colored glasses had fallen away forever.
She now sat by the hospital bed, holding the pale hand of her dying friend. Blue veins, so pricked and prodded by doctors and nurses, lined small hands that for the first time were not coiled and poised for a fight. Her old friend appeared at peace, as if she now welcomed death.
That was what age did for the lucky. As life stripped away youth and vitality, it also softened some of the regrets and perhaps exchanged a few devils for angels.
Her friend’s face was narrow and deeply lined and her once-wiry body whittled down to bone and skin. Thick auburn hair had thinned and grown as white as her paper-thin skin. IVs dripped sedatives and painkillers while monitors beeped softly. The window shades were pulled closed so that the light did not hurt her eyes. Of all the places she could imagine her old friend dying, it was not here in this dark, sterile room so far from her home in the lush Blue Ridge Mountains.
Olivia almost regretted being here now and perhaps losing the image of the vibrant, strong girl who had dared life at each curve in the road. As much as Olivia wanted to cling to the old images she treasured of her friend and ignore the ravages of this cancer, to abandon her friend now would be a regret her old shoulders could not bear.
Closing her eyes, Olivia stood silent until she felt a gentle stirring in the woman’s body. She opened her eyes to see watering blue eyes staring at her.
“You came?” Her voice sounded strained and weak.
Olivia smiled, refusing to give sadness any ground. “Of course I did.”
“Is my child here?”
“Yes. She drove me. My eyesight won’t allow me to drive beyond my little town.”
As if Olivia had not spoken—“How is my daughter?”
“She’s grown into a fine woman.”
“Good.” For a long moment there was silence broken only by the beep of the monitor. “Thank you for looking out for her.”
“You did the same for me, didn’t you? Looked after my granddaughter when she needed it most.”
“How is she?”
“She just had her second baby.”
She thought back to that one single act of courage a half century ago that had bonded the two women. They had risked life and limb for each other and kept so many secrets.
Fragile brows gathered in a frown. “Don’t go to your grave with your secret, Miss Olivia. You and I both know it’s the kind that binds the soul to the earth,” she said.
Olivia had locked away so many memories over the years that they had tangled together. She feared a tug on one would unravel the entire lot. Confession might be good for the soul, but by her way of thinking, it did little else. Her secret had served a purpose, and if keeping it meant her soul was bound to this earth forever, then so be it.
CHAPTER ONE
SADIE
Tuesday, March 15, 1943
Bluestone, Virginia
Blue Ridge Mountains
There were three tricks to hiding. First, it was important to breathe as shallow as possible. If you were doing it right, your nostrils barely flared, and your breathing was as shallow as the James River in drought-hot summer heat. Next, a good rabbit tamed its racing heart and did not allow it to pound and drum against the ribs. Sounds had a tendency to echo beyond the confines of the body.
And the third trick, and not the least by far, was keeping your eyes cast downward. You never looked at whoever was hunting you. A fox might not be able to see a rabbit, but it could feel its stare as surely as if it were being tapped on the shoulder.
Sadie Thompson crouched behind the thick tangle of a honeysuckle bush twisting around the large stump of a fallen oak. Her heart beat fast in her chest, rapping against her ribs so hard she struggled to catch her breath. She was out of shape, and the mile-long run through the woods from her old truck had taken a surprising toll.